


A Worthy Commission(s)

by RefrainGirl



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Achilles has Big Feels, Bad Cooking, Bathing/Washing, Contracts from the Contractor, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Embarrassed Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Emotions, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Mentioned Zagreus (Hades Video Game), No Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Achilles (Hades Video Game), Parent Patroclus (Hades Video Game), Patroclus' God Tier Humor, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, The Song of Achilles References, Warrior Dads, Warrior Husbands in Love, Zag commissions stuff for his dads, but not much angst either way, depends on the chapter, or at least my best attempts at it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29074665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RefrainGirl/pseuds/RefrainGirl
Summary: Achilles and Patroclus have finally been allowed to live their best afterlife together, courtesy of Zagreus and his constant meddling. Neither of them want to waste a single moment of the bliss that they can now share on a regular basis, and they don't plan to.Basically just a chapter fic where Zag gives his warrior dads everything they deserve, while ensuring that the Contractor is kept in a job.
Relationships: Achilles & Patroclus & Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Achilles & Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game), Patroclus & Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 65
Kudos: 122





	1. Contract #1: Home

**Author's Note:**

> After all the angst I've been writing lately, I decided that I should go back to my mainstay - which is an incredible amount of fluff, and just a tiny amount of angst sprinkled in instead of the full dose. It makes me happy to write this self indulgent stuff, and I love seeing the warrior husbands living happy, carefree lives, so yeah. Look forward to as many contracting orders as I can possibly make Zag think of, while Pat and Achilles deal with it all :3
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

When Achilles first stepped onto the grasses of the glade, everything had seemed normal. Blue butterflies flitted past his face, earning an amused smile from him. The Lethe rumbled at its usual quiet pace, cloudy waters tumbling along to the sound of pure, restful silence. The strangely luminescent lights from above filtered down through the branches of the trees, speckling the ground with brilliant patterns. It was lush all around him, green, beautiful. As Elysium had always been.

After admiring the general splendour for a while he spotted Patroclus sitting at his usual place on the hill, and nothing had seemed wrong there, either. Achilles smiled happily to himself and wandered along the cobblestone pathway towards his beloved, wondering what kind of new stories might be told this time. It still felt incredibly elating to be able to visit Pat like this, after so long apart with nothing but his own thoughts and memories of the man to keep him company. As Achilles had suspected upon being reunited with him, his most vivid imaginings could never do Patroclus justice. Being able to be with him now was every bit a gift as their life up above had been, and he was not going to take it for granted. Not this time.

As he drew closer he noticed that Pat didn’t seem to see him approaching, and decided to call out a greeting to the holder of his heart - who then continued to ignore him. Yes, outright _ignore_ him, as if he hadn’t heard Achilles in the slightest. There was no reaction to his voice, none whatsoever. Patroclus didn’t even blink as he crested the hill.

It was far too childish to be hurt over something so silly. Achilles couldn’t expect Pat to simply lounge around, spending all his time wondering when his beloved might come back, and he didn’t. It would have been unfair to make him sit here alone as he used to before, aimlessly waiting until Achilles was allowed to run back into his arms. The stretches between visits felt so long as it was. He didn’t want to make Pat linger in eternal boredom for another age, only to have a brief interlude of closeness shared between them. If there was anything Achilles had learned during his time serving at the House, it was that being bored was one of the most painful things men such as them could be forced to endure, especially for an extended period of time.

So he decided that he was not bothered by the lack of acknowledgement. He truly wasn’t. Pat was allowed to have experiences apart from his, could visit friends and pursue interests that didn’t involve him. Yet… the childish side of him wasn’t relenting as easily as he had hoped it would. A minor pout felt like it was tilting his lips, despite his best efforts to hide it. “Pat? What’s caught your attention?” he asked, genuinely curious and also slightly, ever so slightly and irrationally, _not_ jealous. “You haven’t locked eyes with anything so intensely in quite a while.”

Achilles had expected a turn of the head at least, perhaps even just a short glance; but Patroclus would not be deterred from whatever it was that he was staring at. He was sitting as he normally would, leaning back on one arm as the other casually draped over his bent knee, and had tilted his head to the side to better take in the sight of… something. It was strange for him to be so muted. No wry jests or sarcasm, not even a casual hello. Pat could be a rather quiet type sometimes, contemplative, thoughtful; but he hadn’t ever been as tight lipped as he was now, not since he and Achilles had fought all those years ago. This wasn’t Patroclus being playful either, he had seen such moods many times before. Realizing that made the immature feelings of a moment ago give way to nagging worries instead. Was something on his mind? Or worse, had _he_ done something to cause this?

“Pat…?”

As soon as Achilles felt that he had come close enough he knelt down, staring with concern into Pat’s face. But the concern quickly morphed into bewilderment as he found that his beloved’s expression wasn’t nearly as melancholy as he had thought it would be, nor was it pained or filled with anger. In fact, he looked surprised. Bemused, even. Pleasantly so.

Unsure of what else he should do, Achilles slowly reached up to cup Pat’s cheek. He felt warm to the touch, a kind of warm that only ever happened when he was feeling blissfully happy, and before he could do anything more Patroclus finally, _finally_ noticed his presence. “Achilles, you need to see this,” he said in a hushed whisper of excitement. “Please, confirm for me that I’m not hallucinating, or dreaming, or some other such disappointing reality. I feel that if I look away or speak too loudly then I might be imagining what I’m seeing now.”

“What do you mean, Pat? Imagining what?” Achilles followed his line of sight as best he could, trying to find this wondrous thing that had enraptured his beloved and so thoroughly captured his attention.

And then he saw it. In the spot where a massive statue had once stood, heroic and grand, was now a small building that had not been there when last Achilles had come. The look of this strange building was simple, homely, and perhaps not as elegant as any of the other structures that Achilles had seen so far; yet it called to him so much more than anything else in the Underworld. Everything about it looked cozy and welcoming, more so even than Elysium. It wasn’t large, by any means. In fact, when he compared it to the size of the House of Hades, it was actually quite minuscule. There couldn’t have been more than a few rooms inside. But the building did seem big enough to justify a proper look around later, at the very least.

“When did that…?”

He narrowed his gaze, examining the open porch that sprawled out along the front of the building, and wondered if this could possibly be a trick or an illusion. But no matter how much he squinted, or how often he rubbed his eyes, the sight remained. Real. It was real, after all.

With a disbelieving laugh, Achilles sat down beside Pat, running a hand through his hair. Perplexed wasn’t quite the right word, but it was as good as any he could have used to describe this feeling. “How did I not notice this sooner?” he asked, mostly to himself. “I was standing beside it but a moment ago.”

Patroclus turned his head the tiniest amount, a brilliant smile tugging at his lips. “So you can see it as well?”

“I can, but… what is it here for?”

“Isn’t that obvious? What I find more astounding is that it simply appeared after I’d returned from my walk,” Pat explained, managing to turn his focus away from the mysterious building to beam over at Achilles. “I had left this place as it was, gone for a short walk through the meadows, and then I stepped back through the door to find this odd building standing in the corner. I was shocked to see it, having been in this glade long enough to grow accustomed to the permanence of its decor.”

“So it is new, then.” The clay brickwork did appear to be brand new, just built. Which was even more confusing, for who would be building anything so new this far into Elysium, an already perfect paradise?

“I believe so. For a long time I puzzled over how such a building came to be here, and why it looked so familiar to me.”

“Familiar…?” Achilles looked over at it again, and a bit of warmth did stir inside him, something vague but also pleasant. Indeed, familiar. “Yes, it does remind me of… well, a thing I have long since forgotten.”

Patroclus frowned at that. “You forgot?” he asked incredulously. “Out of everything you remembered about me, about us, you forgot this, the most basic of things?”

“Ah… well…” The stare he was receiving from Patroclus made him falter, and Achilles offered a gently apologetic smile in an attempt to appease him. “I am terribly sorry, for what it’s worth, Pat. This looks familiar, yes, but in a far off, hazy sort of way. I can barely recall.”

Gradually Pat’s frown lessened and although he still sounded annoyed, it was more out of affection than ire. “I suppose it was a long time ago,” he conceded with a huff. “And since we are now shades, building a home together has become a rather nonsensical notion, hasn’t it?”

Home. Achilles blinked, startled. This was… a house. Yes, of course. People had lived inside these, to protect themselves from the elements. It was a requirement for survival. He’d nearly forgotten after spending so long in a place where such struggles no longer existed.

But the way that Patroclus said it… “Building a home together? You mean… this is meant to be… ours?”

“Yes! At last, he understands! All it took was for me to point it out!” Pat rolled his eyes, but the frown had disappeared completely to reveal a mix of exasperation and humor. “Honestly, for someone who possesses such amazing qualities, your lack of observation astounds.”

A frown touched the edges of Achilles’ lips as he reached over to shove softly at Pat’s shoulder. “Be still. I would have noticed. Eventually.”

“I’m sure you would have, my dearest beloved,” Pat teased, laughing as Achilles grinned and shoved him harder. “But in all seriousness, I do think this house was erected specifically for you and I to make use of. And if that is the case, then who do we know who may have access to these kinds of creative amenities?”

Furrowing his brows, Achilles brought a hand to his chin and thought about it, running over all the possibilities carefully in his head until the most accurate one stood out above all the others. But, no. He wouldn’t risk so much just for them. Would he?

His astonished gaze eventually turned on Pat. “Hold on. You mean to say that the lad… that _Zagreus_ …?”

Of course he did. Of course he would.

Achilles slammed a fist into his hand upon realizing, scrunching up his face in disbelief. “I can scarcely believe he would pay the contractors to do such a thing. Surely his father wouldn’t approve of this! No, actually… he is less than attentive when it comes to the contractor’s work… but still! I shall have words with him. He needs to be more careful when it comes to…”

He hadn’t noticed during his rambling, but Patroclus had been observing him the whole time with a crooked smile on his face. “… What?” he asked suspiciously, cocking an eyebrow. “What have I done to earn this look?”

“Oh, nothing, truly. As amusing as it is to watch your fatherly instincts kick in over the stranger’s decisions in life, I also find it quite reassuring that at least one of you takes my advice to heart.”

That comment made Achilles start, first blushing hotly over being caught doting on the Prince of Hell, and then becoming righteously irritated over the last part of Pat’s assumption. For an assumption was all that it was! “Take care not to say that in front of him, Pat,” he scolded, waving a finger chidingly at him. “The last thing we need is for the lad to start getting more ideas, thinking that he can go out of his way for us over every little thing. I…”

He paused in his tirade to see that Patroclus was desperately trying to smother his grin under a straight face, right up until he let out a disgraceful snort of a laugh. _Is he… laughing at me?_ Achilles’ pout from earlier resurfaced, and he shut off the rest of his words with a grumble. “What could possibly be so amusing this time?” he demanded.

Pat covered his mouth partially by resting his chin in his hand, yet it wasn’t quite enough to completely hide his smirk. “Forgive me, I was just thinking about how often you sound like a proud father without consciously trying to,” he said, expression softening as Achilles gradually let himself match his smile with lips and eyes both. It was hard to stay upset with Patroclus when he was being this charming - which was a constant thing. But by the Gods, he hadn’t felt himself go this red since he had first seen Pat unclothed, and that was a different kind of heat than this altogether.

“Whenever the stranger crosses your lips, it’s as if he has always been our son,” Pat continued, tilting his head curiously to the side. “Are you too prideful to accept assistance from him?”

“Pat, he isn’t our son,” Achilles began, flushing all the way down his neck as he rubbed at it. “And… well. It’s a bit of a complicated matter, one that has nothing to do with my pride. I just don’t want Zagreus getting himself into any more trouble than he’s already in.”

“And yet you were the one training him, encouraging him to go to the surface and find his birth mother. Dare I say it, the stranger would not have gotten far without your guidance and support. If you had not been there for him, hadn’t lifted his spirits after every time he was forced to turn back…”

“Pat…”

“Whether you recognized it as a risk or not, what you did for him is what I would call a risk. What would have happened if Lord Hades had caught you smuggling in the divine weapons that the stranger wields? Likely nothing good. But you committed yourself to doing it anyway, because you wanted to help the stranger escape.”

Patroclus must have noticed the knowing frown forming on Achilles’ face, as he let a genuine smile shine through and placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking it fondly. “You can never seem to determine for yourself if something is worth risking it all, Achilles. You’re more than eager to tell others my advice, yet when it comes to taking it… It’s been a dilemma of yours for as long as we have been together. Know that I love you with all my heart and soul, but one day you will need to accept that nothing can be done without some risk - and I do mean ‘nothing’ in the literal sense. Even the simplest of tasks has a minimal amount of danger behind it.”

As usual, Pat was right. Achilles sighed, raised a hand to place it on top of the one still resting comfortably on his shoulder. “I know. It’s become more of a challenge for me to risk anything after…”

He felt Patroclus squeeze him lightly in understanding, and before he could say anything more their fingers had become intertwined, weaved together in a warm tapestry of love and affection. The comfort of such an action made Achilles smile, and Pat moved to place a tender kiss atop their linked hands. “Mm. If it would ease your mind, might I remind you that you said yourself that Lord Hades is not one to make a fuss over the contractor’s jobs? If he was willing to allow the stranger to revise the contract separating us, then he shouldn’t be bothered by the occasional side job on our behalf. Surely there’s no need to fear for our son.”

Was he truly going to keep calling Zagreus that, just to make him flustered? Judging from the twinkle in Pat’s eyes, that was a resounding yes. Anything to tease Achilles with, or so it seemed. Maybe Patroclus held the same feelings for the lad that he did, and this was his way of showing it.

Still, it was quite the embarrassing jest, and Achilles frowned deeper at him. “Do you enjoy calling him such, Pat?”

The mischievous glint in those gorgeous eyes had grown stronger, and that was all the answer that Achilles really needed. But Patroclus had to give him an answer anyway, one that made his cheeks burst into flames. “Of course I do. You should have seen how he reacted when I called him that last he visited me. Gods, the two of you make quite a fine pair of blushing, proud men. It must run in the family.”

Achilles buried his face in his free hand, grinning helplessly to himself as Pat chuckled in his ear. “You’re horrible,” he muttered. “I mean it, Pat, you are truly horrible.”

“Would you love me if I were any other way?”

The question was answered with a kiss as Achilles reminded Pat that neither man needed to change. Their love was loud, demanding and as strong as it had ever been. There was no reason to alter it, not a single one.

* * *

It had taken a while but the two of them eventually found a free moment to inspect the house afterwards. And upon doing so Achilles discovered a note attached to the brick entranceway. The handwriting was messy but readable, and he recognized it right away as belonging to a certain prince. It had read:

_Dear sirs,_

_I hope you don’t mind but I’ve decided to send you a small token of my appreciation, to pay you back for what you have both done to help me. Achilles, sir, you have always been an inspiration, and your Patroclus has been kind and obliging whenever I pass through. This is the least I could do to say thank you. I hope the two of you make many more memories together, in this place. I wish you both the best, and hope to see you again soon._

_Zagreus._

Achilles couldn’t stop his smile from taking over his face as he read. What a generous and kind lad. “Hm? But what is this post-script about…?”

Patroclus was already inside, having no patience to wait for Achilles to read the note. He would have to read the rest to him after he was done being distracted by this delight. But it had barely been a minute before he head Pat roar with laughter. “Beloved,” he called, his voice shaking, “he built us a house with nothing but a bed! Just a bed! Of all the furniture he could start us off with! What a clever son we have!”

Achilles merely shook his head, chuckling to himself. “I’m sure it was just a coincidence,” he replied, although the suggestion hiding in Pat’s words was stirring him up more than he cared to admit.

He heard footsteps as Pat came back to the entryway, and Achilles swallowed as his amusement swiftly became replaced by a headier, more intoxicating emotion. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he took in the simmer of Patroclus’ gaze as it rested on places that had gone untouched for… about ten minutes. Still, Achilles found that he wanted more already, and hurriedly dropped the note onto the floor.

“Coincidence or no, do thank him for me,” Pat drawled, delighting in the response Achilles was giving him. “I was beginning to get tired of rocks digging into my backside.”

Indeed, the bedroom was starting to seem like a wonderful addition, vastly appealing in many ways, and Achilles reached out to snag Pat’s hand, drawing him into a tight embrace. “Yes, but at the rate we’re going, you might as well tell him yourself.”

Pat grinned. “You would claim to last that long?”

Achilles puffed up his chest. “Without a doubt.”

“Well, then…” And it was here that Patroclus gave him one of his most adoring, eager looks. “I should like to see that, I think.”

Needless to say, it would be awhile before either of them held the attention span to read Zagreus’ brief post-script; but then again, it was altogether unnecessary as they were… fairly satisfied with what had been provided.

_P.S. Sorry about the lack of furniture, it’s surprisingly costly. All I could afford at the moment was a bed, so I hope that will be enough for now. Pleasant dreams!_


	2. Contract #2: Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The house that was built for Achilles and Patroclus is still incredibly bare, so Zagreus decides to add a little something more to appease them - a kitchen. But he couldn't have possibly known that they would be needing yet _another_ kitchen, and so soon, too...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of people asked for a kitchen to be given to our warrior husbands, and so I went off the deep end with inspiration xD Seriously, I had so much fun writing this out! I'd imagine that someone as calm and level-headed as Pat would be downright _terrifying_ when he truly gets mad, so that kinda came out as I wrote. And Zagreus is here to witness the chaos, yaaay :3
> 
> As always, thank you for the wonderful suggestions, keep 'em comin', and I hope you enjoy this!

After he and Pat had taken some time to explore their new house (and after they had taken a _considerable_ amount of time to break in the housewarming gift Zagreus had provided), Achilles could finally admit to himself that it was an unexpected yet pleasant surprise. In this case, the benefits had outweighed the risks, and he approved of it just this once - and only because the lad was being so compassionate. The bed he had purchased for them had turned out to be as soft as a cloud while the sheets were thin enough so as to provide comfort without getting in the way. He had never seen anything of the like, even while he was alive. Whether the design was supposed to be a testament of high quality or just some additional, more than likely accidental, forethought on Zagreus’ part, Achilles didn’t know. Although he did hope that the sheets weren’t as expensive as he thought, otherwise he would feel guilty over the state they had been left in. Either way, it had been the most luxurious day or night that the two of them had had the pleasure of experiencing since death, and that was plenty reason enough to be thankful for the lad and his gestures.

Yet it was proving harder than Achilles had thought it would be to change the habits that had become so ingrained in him. Despite reassurances that nothing could happen to any of them that was worse than death, he was still hesitant to enable the lad to pursue more contracts. If on some off chance Lord Hades ended up becoming apprised of the situation, if he did somehow begin to care in the slightest about any of this, then…

Achilles sighed through his nose, blandly watching as assortments of shades milled about, wandering down the hall he was supposed to be guarding. Why was it that the urge to protect the important people in his life always went to war against his ability to calculate and take risks accordingly? When he had been alive, Achilles had taken risks that no other man would have. He had been prideful, bold and, frankly, foolish. All traits that came with youth, all traits that he could see Zagreus shared in some measure. Perhaps that was why he was so stern with the lad regarding his actions. Perhaps that was why he was so reluctant now as well, because he knew what things could lead to if Zagreus stepped just a little too carelessly. But… hanging back in the shadows, taking no risks whatsoever… that was not a life, was it? That was stagnancy, it was madness. He should know.

“Gods,” he muttered, hanging his head with another quiet sigh. “Must he be right about everything…?”

It was just as Pat had said, he could no longer dispute it. Achilles knew that he was holding himself back, that he was even holding the lad back with these concerns, but try as he might he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Fear is for the weak, but just how long had he been allowing himself to succumb to it regardless?

… That was it, then. No more fretting over whatever was to come of this. He would take it in stride, and make Pat proud of him for finally adhering to his advice. As brash as it was for the Prince of Hell to commission anything in his and Patroclus’ name, Achilles couldn’t bring himself to condemn such actions, not anymore. He was starting to understand that there was nothing he could do to stop Zagreus from pursuing what he wanted, no matter his reticence. And though he did everything humanly possible to keep it hidden, Achilles knew his Patroclus well. He could see how Pat had warmed to the lad and his bouts of generosity, and he loved seeing that handsome face beaming at the prospect of them making a home together. Not just sharing, but actually _making_ a home together, for the two of them and no one else. Exactly like they had always dreamed of doing.

How could he possibly say no to such notions? To either Pat or Zagreus, in fact? The lad was doing this for them after all, because he cared, and Pat… well, it was nice to see him smile again. Nice to see him trust in someone other than Achilles. He wanted to see more of it, wanted to be a part of it. More bliss, more joy. More of his family.

 _Fatherly instincts, indeed._ Achilles dutifully hid his blushing face in his cloak as a few more shades passed by, hoping that none of them saw his momentary lapse. They had barely glanced at him, but he could hear whispering and snickering all the same. Obviously that kind of reaction would do nothing to secure his reputation as a stoic guardian of the House, so he narrowed his eyes at them, only feeling satisfied in his attempts when the shades eventually scattered and faded through the walls in their haste to get away. It served them right for putting their noses in where they didn’t belong. If they even had noses.

But as soon as he was alone, Achilles could feel his lips tugging up into a hopeful smile once more. There was to be no real way out of this other than to accept it for what it was, and his worries were slowly turning into anticipation as he wondered what might be in store when he returned to Elysium.

* * *

The instant his shift ended Achilles warped back into the glade, noting with slight amusement that Pat was nowhere to be seen. He was likely inside the house, trying to find small ways to make the empty shell seem as if it were a home. Pat had always enjoyed such activities when he could find nothing else to do, and it also happened to be something constructive, which inspired him all the more to apply himself to it.

But as soon as he noticed the plume of dark smoke rising from one of the windows of their home Achilles blanched, his curiosity shifting to blatant horror. That much smoke couldn’t possibly be a good thing. “Pat!?”

He sprinted for the entrance, his phantom heartbeat ringing in his chest, only to hear ardent cursing from within. The air around the house was now thick with the same black, acrid smoke that had been pouring from the window, and though Achilles had no lungs to cough with, the reaction was automatic. “Pat, are you alright!?” he sputtered, waving a hand to give him at least a little visibility. “By the Gods, what’s going on in here!?”

A few more eloquent curses reached his ears, and then the sharp, angry tone of Pat’s voice eventually reached him through the endless blackness. “Nothing, absolutely nothing is going on here!” he snapped, cursing loudly again when something clattered onto the floor. He was fine, oh thank the Gods. Achilles breathed a sigh of relief, and even laughed slightly at the irritation of his beloved’s words.

“This doesn’t seem like nothing to me, Pat. Is something burning…?”

Unfortunately, this was one of those moments where Patroclus’ mood had significantly soured, and his words immediately turned to ice at the mere mention of anything burning. “Don’t you dare start with me, Achilles! This is not the time for laughs! Make yourself useful and help me clear out all of this smoke!”

Even when he knew that he was tempting the Fates in more ways than just one, Achilles couldn’t stop himself from laughing harder. He had just realized what had caused such a mishap, and the memories of past accidents had him in a downright jovial mood of a sudden. “Of course, I’ll be right there,” he laughed, only just dodging a well-thrown spoon as it sailed through the smoke. The accuracy was impressive, but even more impressive was the fact that the blunt utensil had been thrown hard enough to embed itself in one of the nearby trees, quivering where it had struck.

”Achilles,” Patroclus said, in warning, “I love you, but I will not hesitate to spear you myself if you don’t silence that laughter.”

“I’m sorry, Pat, I… I just can’t believe…”

“Do not say _anything_ more!”

“Alright, alright.”

Wading through the house was difficult when he could hardly see a foot in front of his face, but gradually Achilles felt his way into what must have once been a brand new kitchen. His fingers ran over the edges of a few open shelves in the wall, feeling at a few plates that were still miraculously in one piece. If he squinted hard enough he could barely see the outline of Pat through the haze, standing in the middle of the room, shaking his head.

Gods, Zagreus was thoughtful, but he had no idea what sort of chaos he had unleashed with giving Patroclus access to such an environment. He had given Achilles quite the scare on multiple occasions when he turned his efforts to cooking, since he had never had much opportunity to cook for himself before. Learning to cook was fine, commendable even; but Patroclus was notorious for managing to take such lessons to their extremes. For some reason or another, he had to learn every possible way to turn each food item into charcoal first, before he could learn anything about turning it into proper edible cooking. Such was the Patroclus way; and though he realized that his amusement regarding the results of these endeavors was one of few things that drove Pat into quite the fit of rage, Achilles simply couldn’t resist it. These moments, these memories… they were sweet to him. They felt like home, just as Pat did.

He couldn’t stop smiling as he reached out a hand to brush against Pat’s arm. “All in all, this doesn’t look so terrible. Then again, I can’t exactly see the damage that’s been done,” he commented idly. Pat jerked away from his touch with an offended huff, and Achilles let his fond smile consume him further. “Pat, I’m certain that you’ve done much worse to a kitchen than this. Whatever it is, I know we can fix it. So then, tell me why you are upset.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Achilles heard him release a pent up sigh. “I wanted this to go right, for once,” Patroclus muttered, melting his heart with how genuinely he spoke. “I don’t know why I thought it would, but… I wanted you to come home to something nice, something heartwarming. And, as it turns out, dying does nothing to improve the skills which tormented you in life. I nearly burnt down the house. Again. I feel as if I’ve gotten far worse at this since I became a shade, not better. Life isn’t fair, I know. But, still.”

“Oh, Pat…” Stepping further into the room, Achilles reached out until he found his beloved, gently pulling his tense body into his arms. He guided his head to rest against his chest and ran his fingers carefully through his hair, placing as many soft kisses everywhere as he could. Slowly, ever so slowly, Patroclus relaxed into his embrace. “This _was_ heartwarming, you can’t begin to imagine how much. It made me feel as if we were alive again.”

Pat snorted, his muffled voice heavily laden with skepticism. “Stop trying to make me feel better. Your comforting skills haven’t improved much upon death, either.”

“I meant every word.”

“Oh Gods, did you really? I commend you, then, for thinking back on such times without cringing.”

“Come now, it wasn’t as bad as you say. Eventually my stomach hardened to the task.” He heard Pat scoff and felt a sharp pinch in the side as payback, but Achilles chuckled softly, as he always did. He was long since used to the consequences of teasing Patroclus on cooking. Ah, such pleasant memories. “This glade has been a home to me long before there was anywhere for you and I to stay, you know. All I ever needed was for you to be there. Home is when I stand in your arms, Patroclus. It’s that simple. Nothing else matters so much to me - though, I have to say, the bed was definitely a wonderful development.”

At last he heard Pat hum in amused approval. “That it was,” he agreed, and Achilles let out a nonexistent breath. His beloved’s hand was massaging the spot he had pinched a minute ago, fingers moving slow and tender as he kneaded. An apology, of sorts. Pat could definitely be a verbal sort if the mood struck him, but he was never much for speaking his apologies.

“Well, er... Should we not clean up this mess?”

Patroclus looked at him through the remains of the smoke, his smile shining like a beacon in the dark. “It would be irresponsible to leave it. But, before we do anything else, I want to hear you say that again.”

His hand suddenly ceased its movements, leaving behind a brief tingle to the skin that made Achilles lose track of his thoughts. “Say what again?” he asked, losing himself completely in the sparkle of roguish eyes. “What would you have me say?”

He could feel Pat lean close against him, close enough for Achilles to plainly see his grin, even in the cloudiness of the room. “Heh. Since you appear to be incapable of coherent thought for the moment, I’ll just say it myself.” He moved closer still, just enough for their lips to touch, and whispered. “I would stand in your arms as well, Achilles. For as long as you would have me do so.”

The lump in his throat swelled, and Achilles swallowed thickly. “Forever, then.”

“Glad to see that we are of the same mind.”

They had nearly kissed. The moment had been _nearly_ perfect. But, as was the usual style for Pat’s kitchen escapades, he had forgotten about something very crucial. Out of the corner of his eye, Achilles saw a flicker on the other side of the room. Something bright and orange. There was an abrupt, searing heat as another huge column of smoke poured into the room, and he blinked.

“Pat? I don’t suppose you remembered to…?”

He simply sighed. “I did not,” he grumbled, seconds before the room burst into flame.

* * *

Zagreus stepped through the doorway to the glade, out of breath but altogether pleased with his efforts thus far. The myrmidons of Elysium always took a lot out of him, but he would have expected nothing less from seasoned warriors and their eternal desire for glory. The only reason he could do so well against them was thanks to the boons of the Olympians, and his mentor Achilles’ training. It would be a whole lot easier though if they could stop regenerating every time he defeated them… Such tactics weren’t very sporting. It wasn’t like he could instantly stand back up again when they downed him - well, not more than once, anyway.

The pottery in the corner was just starting to look tempting when he took notice of Achilles sitting next to Patroclus up on the hill, laughing heartily. Zagreus felt a small smile creep onto his face at the sight. Ever since he had reunited the two warriors, it was as if the glade held bountiful pockets of life energy again. The lights seemed brighter, the plants greener and more verdant than he had ever seen them. This place was no longer a prison, it was what his father had originally intended at last. Paradise, for the both of them.

Although… now that he looked closer, Patroclus was definitely not sharing that laugh with Achilles. If Zagreus didn’t know any better, he was actually rather miffed about something.

Padding his way up to where they both sat, the prince decided to see if he could defuse the tension in the air. “Hello sirs,” he greeted, hands on his hips. “It’s been a while since we last saw each other, hasn’t it? How are things between you?”

A large wave of sinister energy assaulted Zagreus from all sides, out of nowhere, and he blinked back his shock. He hadn’t been expecting to feel this kind of dark, ominous aura, not in Elysium; but it was here somehow, pushing on his conscience much like Nyx’s mirror. Yet even though it was familiar, this was still different. Not quite a godly power, but very, very close in strength.

Eventually the feeling subsided, and he straightened up a little, glancing about for the source of the disturbance. “Your visits are going well, I hope?”

There it was again, this large, dark force. The weight of it was almost stifling, and Zagreus had to take a small step back to catch his breath. As soon as he did, he realized where the energy was coming from. His eyes fell to Patroclus, who was openly glaring at Achilles, almost as if he were daring him with his eyes to speak, and then he could visibly see it. The pure, unadulterated rage coming off of him in black, rolling waves. Blinking back much more shock, Zagreus decided that it would be best if he let things sort themselves out without his involvement.

But strangely, Achilles didn’t seem to pay any heed to the threat, smiling breathlessly up at Zagreus without a care in the world. “It has been… peaceful,” he said with an overly flourished waving gesture. That made Patroclus sneer and nudge at his ribs with a firm elbow, but Achilles grinned harder in spite of the pain that surely caused him. “Yes, that is exactly how I would describe it. Our time here has been rather _peaceful_.”

Zagreus cocked an eyebrow, taking another minor step backwards. If this kept up, he might have to leave altogether. He glanced over his shoulder, towards the house he’d commissioned, and then back at the two men. “Er… I don’t mean to pry, but is there a reason why everything here smells so…?”

He was going to add more to that statement, had planned to, but the longer he stared, the more he observed of the situation. Their robes were scuffed and dirty, almost as if they had been urgently trampled on; there were black smudge marks everywhere on the fabric too, especially on Patroclus’ robe, similar to the aftermath of some kind of explosion. Perhaps he took the brunt of it, because Achilles looked decently clean compared to him. A few edges of their robes looked more tattered than usual, and Achilles’ was significantly shorter. He’d torn a piece off of it, apparently. Wait, were those… fray marks, as well? From exposure to fire?

What exactly had…? Oh… _Oh_. Right.

Zagreus tried to smile obligingly, but he couldn’t stop staring at the tiniest tendrils of smoke drifting up from both Achilles and Patroclus’ hair. The other man’s beard was even smoldering a bit, and his frown deepened as he reached up to pat at the lingering spark. Well, his questions had gained their none too pleasant answers, and he made a mental note to commission the Contractor to rebuild a certain kitchen once he had the means.

“A reason why it smells so lovely? Absolutely - ” Patroclus elbowed Achilles even harder, his expression dangerously neutral, and made him groan out a laugh as he winced. “… Not. Absolutely not, lad. Every once in a while, the air here turns ill. I can’t begin to understand it.”

This was completely suspicious on both their parts but Zagreus couldn’t bring himself to ask the obvious question, so he just nodded, slowly. How else was he supposed to respond!? He already knew the answer anyway, so why risk his neck?

With great difficulty he’d pretended not to notice, but Patroclus had been watching him during the whole conversation, like a hawk would observe its prey. He had seen them hunt once, before he was sent back to his father’s House via the Styx. Those birds were precise hunters, quick and deadly. Also an accurate depiction of the man currently staring him down.

Was Patroclus waiting to see if he would point out the things that really didn’t need pointing out, like the blackened mess along the edge of each window in the house? They looked like awful stains that would simply refuse to scrub out; but Zagreus would rather die to Theseus than Patroclus in this case, so he wisely kept his thoughts to himself and rubbed awkwardly at his arm.

Throughout it all, Achilles was simply beaming at them, brimming with a humor and good cheer that no one else present seemed inclined to return. Somehow, he was finding this entire conversation to be immensely entertaining. “A strange occurrence, is it not?” he asked, his voice filled with mock seriousness. Leaning back on his arms, he glanced over at Patroclus with a winning smile, and Zagreus nearly gagged from the intensity of the foreboding energy swelling through the area. He took another, bigger step away as Achilles continued on. “What do you suppose might have caused this phenomenon, Pat? I’m eager to hear what you have surmised thus far.”

“I should warn you not to be so eager, Achilles,” Patroclus hissed, his returning gaze heavily laden with promises of what would be coming if he said anything more. But of course, Achilles couldn’t resist sticking out his tongue cheekily anyway. “You amuse yourself now, but when next I have something to throw, I will not miss.”

Yikes. This wasn’t getting any better, and Zagreus didn’t just mean the tension between the two warriors. He took another cautious sniff, and wrinkled his nose up. “Is this… supposed to be one of Eurydice’s recipes? Pom Porridge, I think? It smells almost similar, except that it’s incredibly charred… Ugh, it stings.”

Actually, he did recall leaving that in as a sort of surprise for them to try, but… if this was what happened…

“Stings what, lad? The eyes, the nose? The heart?” Achilles choked back a snort when Patroclus’ eyes cut through him, quickly waving off his previous comment. “I jest, Pat, honestly, I do. We are all men here, let us handle this with some delicacy.”

Zagreus cocked an eyebrow, having heard enough at last. “You’re telling _me_ to handle this with delicacy, sir? I’ve been the most delicate of the two of us, I should think! I could have easily complained about the stains left in the windows, could have griped about paying the Contractor to fix everything that was destroyed in an instant, but you didn’t see me… oh, Gods…”

Zagreus turned hesitantly towards the absolute pit of darkness that was Patroclus and grimaced. He wasn’t sure if Achilles could see what he saw, but all that Zagreus could think was that if Nyx were here, she might have been suitably impressed by the amount of dark energy that Patroclus could produce. The shadow of his fury seemed to cover the whole of the glade, and even the lighthearted butterflies had chosen to land, hiding somewhere out of sight. Everything around them was still, and not in the good sense.

“Ah,” Achilles mused, his humor shifting to nervousness. “We went too far.”

“We? I think you mean to say that _you_ went too far, sir.”

Out of nowhere Patroclus cleared his throat, making Achilles startle, and then he had their undivided attention. For the first time in quite a while, Zagreus was relieved that death would send him back to his father. At least there he could bide his time until Patroclus had ceased being angry at him.

Unfortunately, Achilles had been in the glade for just a short period. He had far too much time left to be put in his place, and no such reprieve to look forward to. Zagreus would have almost felt bad for the man, if he hadn’t just tried to drag him down alongside him.

Patroclus shook his head, before letting out a long, heavy sigh. “I live with children,” he muttered, glaring at them each in turn. “Utter children! The both of you are men! Act as such!”

His words traveled straight up the prince’s spine, and he felt himself stand a little taller. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Achilles tried to speak, although he didn’t get far. “Listen, Pat…”

The second he opened his mouth, Patroclus placed a finger over his lips to stifle him. “No, you have said quite enough, Achilles. Now, if you will permit me, I will say my piece.”

The way he eyed them made Zagreus intensely uncomfortable. That was the look that Patroclus had had on his face when he called him ‘son’. But instead of it being done with light humor, this time it was to be done as a form of revenge, and he wasn’t sure which was worse, honestly.

“The two of you are important, precious to me, that much I’m certain of. But I have never come across anyone else in my lifetime who has been more capable of thoroughly infuriating me, either. I could love and rage at you both in the same breath, and I do so often. The fact that I am not yet driven beyond the point of insanity confounds me. Still, my _dearest son_ , you have invoked less ire than your _clueless father_ there, so you may leave unscathed.”

He had punctuated the words with meaning as he said them, giving them both a short stare in turn. So there was to be a little mercy involved, after all.

Zagreus was somewhat relieved, although the fact that Patroclus had called him his ‘dearest son’ was just too much. He had never been called anything even remotely endearing other than ‘my child’ and ‘lad’ - which were both a sort of endearment as well, and he liked hearing them all the same, but they were still… not quite the kind of sentiment that he was looking to hear. He had no idea how Patroclus found out about this desire of his, but he was grateful and horribly embarrassed about it anyway.

Usually it was spoken as more of a parting shot, though. He would say it teasingly and Zagreus would recognize it as a joke while suspecting that it might have meant something more. No matter how much he wondered, Zagreus could never quite gather up the courage to ask about it.

But now, there was no need to. It had been laid bare, and it was not some attempt at flustering him. Well, not _just_ that, at any rate. This time Patroclus was being about as forthright as he could be, and his words were intense but honest. Even when he was justifiably enraged, he… still thought of Zagreus as a son, and as a man. He still cared about him, despite it all.

Shit. He could feel his whole face burning, and whenever Zagreus experienced a blush, it didn’t stop at his face. His entire body blazed with mortification, right down to his toes. And if he didn’t leave this place now, then he was absolutely going to set fire to all of Elysium on accident. He couldn’t afford to do that again, and he didn’t want or need to hear his father’s droning lectures on responsibility and the control of one’s emotions.

So, before any kind of repercussions could crop up in the wake of his bigger-than-life feelings, Zagreus nodded tightly. “Thank you, dad - sir, I mean… Thanks…”

He saw Achilles’ throat tighten as soon as he said the words, saw how fast his head turned and his glance, those eyes… the unbelievable amount of tenderness lurking there, and he was about to open his mouth to say something! Was he going to say the same thing!? Was he going to…!?

Gods, this was making him combust in the worst way. He had absolutely no control over this, none. Was the grass beneath his feet starting to smoke? Ah, yes it was. A single glance had confirmed it. That was bad, very bad. There had been enough fire here today, he had to go.

_Come on, Zagreus, go!_

He brought a hand up to his cheek, felt the inferno burning there, then dragged it over his mouth to prevent himself from saying something utterly, completely sappy. “I’ll… check in later,” he said quickly, sprinting off towards the double doors and dashing headlong into the farthest one. “Bye!”

The outlines of his footprints had singed the grass, shimmering with a fluorescent orange tinge, and Patroclus smiled to see it. “Now you see why I like to tease him so often with the truth,” he said, looking over at Achilles with the kind of superior gaze that he always held upon winning a match. “He has no one to tell him such things, so I do. And what did you think? Would you say that was a hit, or a miss?”

Achilles mumbled a great many things from the depths of his heart, but he knew it couldn’t be heard through his hands. Pat didn’t need to hear, he had said it so much and so often that he had likely memorized the words. His beloved had won and gotten his revenge with a single swing. Now he would claim his prize, as many times as he pleased.

And, as usual, Achilles would be more than eager to oblige.


	3. Contract #3: Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Zagreus sprints off, Achilles finds himself wondering about his role as a father, and how to express it. Words don't come easy, so he considers giving a gift - which, as it turns out, is equally as difficult. He decides to ask Pat for advice, and in the process discovers yet another fancy add on to their house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's reading The Song of Achilles now??
> 
> I'm not gonna lie, a lot of that inspired the writing and characterization in this chapter, and I'm likely to continue with it (because I truly enjoy that book omg). Also... I kinda went off the charts on this one... I never planned to write so many words!! But there was so much going on in my head that I couldn't stop, and honestly I just wanted to put this out there before it got out of hand lol, so I hope you guys enjoy what I came up with!
> 
> As always, thanks for the continued support and comments! On with the story!!

“Pat, I’ve returned!”

Silence greeted him in abundance, broken only by the echo of his own voice, and Achilles chuckled. He no longer expected a grand response to his calls, hadn’t for some time now. But every once in a while he tried, to see what might come of his efforts. At the moment he could only assume that Pat was either wandering elsewhere in Elysium, a pastime that he had no desire to give up on no matter how wonderful their glade was becoming, or he was preoccupied with one of the lad’s gifts again. If so, Achilles sincerely hoped that he had listened to the advice of making use of anything _but_ the kitchen; for if there was to be another explosion and another fire, Achilles would rather be there to help put it out than to hear about the blaze second hand through the rumors of shades that were visiting the House. It would be difficult to explain an event of that magnitude away, and Hades was not generally the forgiving type…

But that worry was small and fleeting, hardly a worry at all. No, for the longest time his true worry had laid with Patroclus, himself. Before and after the events that had led to their death, and even before Zagreus had started sending such incredible gifts their way, there had been a significant and persistent melancholy that followed Pat everywhere he went. He had learned early on to be reserved in all things, a habit taught from living with people who would not accept errors no matter the effort he put behind their trials. Because of this, much of his life had been lived on the sidelines and yet it hadn’t bothered him. He had been content to stand aside for all those years, to observe without making his presence known, and Achilles could still recall the hesitancy and the stress that had consumed Pat whenever he was forced to be involved in certain situations. He was a man who was used to being alone, to being a facet in the room rather than a part of the group, and it had taken Achilles a very long stretch of time to get Pat to be even slightly comfortable around him when they first met. To this day, Pat would usually let Achilles do most of the talking unless there was a direct statement addressed towards him, and he had not gone out of his way to meet any other shade since being sent to Elysium.

As if that weren’t enough of a warning sign, he also worked harder than any other in an attempt to impress, pushing himself to the brink because of the lingering fear that if he did not show his worth in some way then he would be easily discarded, considered useless. It was absurd to think about. He had to know that Achilles would never let that happen, not to his _philtatos_. There was no world in which Patroclus was anything less than radiant, and if such a world existed then he would use every ounce of his power to change it, to fix whatever was broken until his love shone like a star in the heavens, as he deserved to. Such was his devotion to Pat, and that had not changed now that they resided in the Underworld. Rather, it came first and foremost, above everything else that could possibly throw itself into his path. Here, the reservations of ages past were no longer relevant. Patroclus could say what he liked, do, think, _be_ as he had always wanted to be, without reproach, without fear of beratement or banishment. Achilles would not spurn him, and he would let no other criticize his beloved for being who he was.

He had had his suspicions that the kitchen mishap might have originally stemmed in part from these deeply ingrained responses to failure; but after their little adventure it seemed that Patroclus had found the bravery to open himself up, becoming even more aware of how much freedom he truly had at his fingertips and how he could best utilize it. Whereas before he might have waited until they were in bed or otherwise hidden to show his affection, now he was quite open with it. The searing heat of kisses shared upon meeting was delectable, each expressive and impatient press of their lips fervent enough to make Achilles’ knees buckle. He loved how Pat had discarded his need to come up with elaborate excuses to explain away his fondest looks, and how he no longer shrugged away from Achilles when his hand wandered to the swell of his back in the presence of others, though it was mainly Zagreus who visited.

In this gleaming paradise, his beloved could reach for him without consequence. There was nothing and no one to hide from - no people of import to hinder their passions, no judgements to be handed out if they were caught. They were free to live, and to love.

At last, Patroclus was coming to understand that his life was no longer defined by others’ versions of right or wrong, or by fear of what the future might bring. It was about how he chose to spend what was left of it.

Due in no small part to this great realization, Achilles no longer worried about Patroclus. His thoughts were focused on him, always, but it was not with a sense of concern. In fact, his musings turned fairly prideful when he thought of Pat, and how far he had come since their reunion. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be occupied with something new when Achilles eventually returned to the glade. Whether he was setting out fine stoneware that Zagreus had added to their shelves or putting up some curtains he had sewn to add a hint of privacy to their windows, there was always a new addition to be admired. He was ever eager to show Achilles all of the improvements he had seen fit to make in his absence, and witnessing the amount of unabashed excitement in his eyes was enough to make Achilles feel just as excited himself. There was no more melancholy to speak of these days, and he could not explain how much it relieved him to see Pat living again, participating in and fully relishing those activities that were reminiscent of their old life. All of it was a treasure that Achilles would be forever grateful for. After everything that the gods had thrown at them, there was now another chance at happiness, at togetherness. He would always be indebted to the lad for his part in it all, and he’d held quite a large part in what had come to pass, indeed; though, Achilles could see no real way to properly pay Zagreus back for all that he had done and continued to do for them.

There had to be some small thing he could gift, at least. A token of appreciation, something…

“Hm. What could a shade possibly give to a prince? He already has everything he could ask for, and that which he doesn’t have he can simply commission,” he mused to himself as he stepped up to the porch. “I know my pride won’t allow such vast generosity to go without some form of reciprocation, but...”

_I truly do not have much to offer. Nothing that he hasn’t already given to me himself._

Furrowing his brows as he dwelt further on the matter, Achilles walked briskly until his feet carried him to the edge of the porch. It was not a long distance to travel, made even shorter by his haste to see Patroclus, and he sighed. Usually he was prone to pacing when lost in such deep contemplation, a tick he had held since youth that helped to sort though the chaos of his thoughts. But seeing as he had yet to kiss Pat in greeting, and sorely wanted to, Achilles abandoned that idea to go inside and see him instead.

Absently he raised his hands, drifting them along the tops of a couple potted plants that Pat had set by the entrance to their home as he passed, and smiled to feel the gentle tickle of leaves against his skin. They had been entertaining the thought of raising a garden lately, but the earth of the glade was surprisingly rough for its grassy softness, and was littered with ancient rock that had laid undisturbed for ages. It would take a miracle for the dirt to be plowed, let alone tilled so that anything could grow. So for the time being Pat had settled on planting the seeds he had found in some old pottery that was strewn about across Elysium. The results had been more favorable than either of them could have predicted, and Pat had been so pleased that he picked two of his favorite plants - the ones that had actually managed to grow past his head - and placed them on the porch, so he could water them more regularly.

Pat was no cook, but he could grow almost anything; and every time Achilles saw those plants he could not resist touching them in some way, knowing that his beloved’s hands had raised them from seedlings to what they were now, tall and strong. It was how Patroclus had handled him as well, with the same kind of tender, nurturing care, and Achilles felt his face go hot from the burst of pleasant memories.

He stepped through the entryway, glancing quickly about the house before reaching up to rub at his burning face. Good, Pat wasn’t in the kitchen. That meant that he wouldn’t see the blush and have instant fuel to tease Achilles with, and it also meant that he had considered Achilles’ words when last they spoke. Though he wasn’t normally regarded as the wisest out of the two of them (except by Zagreus, who had not spent nearly as much time around Pat as he had), Achilles was glad that his beloved patiently listened to him still, even after so many years of knowing what he was like.

 _Better four arms than two when it comes to quelling a raging fire._ Pat hadn’t appreciated the comment much, but the sentiment behind it, he had grudgingly said, was sound.

Unfortunately the rest of the house was silent as well, devoid of its usual lively cheer, and Achilles felt his heart pang with a brief sting of loneliness. Pat might not be here, he realized, and it was such an inopportune moment for him to be out. Who was he to ask questions of now? Who was he supposed to talk to, who was going to kiss the weight off of his lips piece by piece until they were no longer frowning?

_I know he is allowed to be elsewhere, but I miss him, all the same…_

Without warning, a sudden noise echoed from somewhere near the back of the house, jostling Achilles out of his head and almost making him jump from the abruptness of it. His body reacted much as it would have in life, with a heavy exhale and the surge of a rapid pulse from his ethereal heart, and before he could think of anything else his spear had manifested into his hand, his muscles tensing in preparation for whatever might have intruded upon their home while Patroclus was away. He had not known of any creatures making their way into the glade before and especially not this far, secluded as this place was among the rest of Elysium’s many chambers.

Ah, there it was again, a snort. He stopped, his body tense. Another snort, but louder. And then he heard a mumble, something warm and familiar and nothing at all like any creature of Elysium he had ever heard before. Achilles paused, listened again, and the sound repeated itself. That snort… wasn’t it… a snore? He tilted his head in mild confusion.

Patroclus was not home… was he?

Or was he…?

Oh, for the love of the gods. He _was_.

An embarrassed groan welled up in his throat and Achilles fought it down as he approached the bedroom, pouting at the thought of what his beloved might say if he had caught him treating a snore as if it were something dangerous. No doubt there would be _that_ stare, he knew the one. Then it would be followed by his teasing smile, the slight twitch of lips that made him want to kiss Pat into oblivion every time he saw it. _Did you honestly think that I was some beast to be slain, Achilles?_ He imagined the words being spoken in that light, humorous voice, and that made the truth of the situation burn up his cheeks all the more. Gods, he couldn’t be blamed for how he reacted! Pat had never snored in all their time together, not a single sound! He was a peaceful, silent sleeper! If anything, Achilles had been the most ungraceful of them when it came to sleep!

The revelation was not new, nor was he unaware of it. He was simply trying to forget, and had almost succeeded until now. There had been so many times in his life where Pat had lain awake and watched him drape himself in a mass of tangled limbs across the spread of their bed, so many instances where he had slept deeply and drooled on himself or even on Pat, as snuggling into his warmth was a fond habit that helped Achilles to relax. And if that was not bad enough, the man would every so often find his nerve and choose to describe the night’s events to him upon waking the next morning, as if it were the sweetest thing he could ever witness. Well, it was not the flattering, adorable picture that Patroclus always painted it to be, and Achilles was certain of that. Mortifying, that’s what it was. For someone who had never before seen a reason to be shy, reserved, or in any way embarrassed, being informed of his graceless sleeping habits, and by his beloved no less… it was just…

Ugh. Of all the memories to recall at a time like this. Achilles glanced off to the side, sighed, and hid his face in his hand.

 _Don’t think on it,_ he told himself. _If you do, he will read it in your face, and then you are surely doomed._

However, when he rounded the corner Pat was not sitting there, grinning on their bed as he had thought he might be. He also wasn’t snoring on it, which was odd, for where else could he possibly sleep if not in their bed?

It was then that he took notice of the new entranceway that had been built into the far wall of their bedroom, and as if in answer he heard more loud snoring coming from the room beyond it. Achilles could feel the curiosity rise in him as he stepped closer, and he peeked his head through to see what kind of addition that Zagreus had decided to grace them with this time. He was barely even phased by this, anymore. The lad was such a generous person, that…

Achilles blinked. His current thought fled like a deer through the recesses of his mind, and his spear vanished instantly from his hand. The embarrassment of a moment ago had instantly flooded out of him, to be replaced with a swamping wave of awe that overtook him just as swiftly.

Alright, he was going to take that back. First a house, then a kitchen and now _this_?

A brand new bathing area stared back at him, definitely more luxurious than the rest of the house could ever be. It was built out of gorgeously hewn stone that shimmered with ripples of light that reflected off of the water, and everything within was the absolute definition of relaxing - from the stack of soft towels sitting by the entrance to the smattering of petals strewn about the carefully tiled floor. The air held a hint of lavender, and Achilles could see that a few sprigs had been put in a vase in the furthest corner of the room.

_This is… simply incredible…_

The pools that had been provided were not large, but they were a comfortable enough size for two, as was much of the house; and the water that lapped softly against their sides was crystal clear, such as Achilles hadn’t seen in a long while. They reminded him of… well, almost. It was close enough to the waters of his homeland to make his heart flutter, and soundlessly he approached the closest pool to kneel, dipping a hand inside out of pure nostalgia. A low hum escaped him at the pleasing feel of fresh water on his skin, and he watched with quiet bliss as the droplets trickled through his fingers. How long had it been since he had swam in the ocean? Ages, although this obviously was not ocean water. It wasn’t from the Lethe either, and was definitely not from the river Styx, so where? What kind of pool existed in the Underworld that was so crisp, so clean, so pure? What waters flowed here that felt as if they could revitalize with a mere touch?

Without meaning to Achilles had answered his own question, and he blinked again in mild bewilderment. Fountain water? Did the lad commission this to be filled with the very same waters that could be found in the fountains of life scattered about the Underworld?

Well, it was no wonder that Patroclus had fallen asleep during his soak, if that was the case. Zagreus, he was definitely beginning to spoil them.

Achilles felt the smile slowly slip from his face, and the frown from earlier creased his lips anew. He sighed again, with not nearly as much levity. How was he to respond to such gifts? How was he to show his thanks when they kept getting grander, and thus further out of the reach of his own pocket? He only made so much, working as a guard of the House, and he knew that his earnings were slim compared to what Zagreus had access to. All of this was lovely, stretching far beyond what he could have ever imagined to share with Pat, but…

 _At this rate, I will never be able to give him anything of worth in return. And that will nag at me._ He gave the roof a helpless stare. _Why must I have so much pride within me? Can I not simply accept something for what it is?_

Pat would probably tell him that he was being foolish, if he were awake. That a gift was a gift, and that there was no requirement to give back for what had been offered in good faith was simply a demonstration of emotion. It was a show of feelings from the lad, and he was not demanding anything from them. He would say that Achilles needn’t feel burdened by it.

_I know that, but as his father, I…_

Achilles swallowed, cut that thought off before he could blush any worse. _I simply want to thank him for all he’s done. This has nothing to do with… any of that._

The words felt like a lie, which Achilles did not do, which he abhorred doing, so it was strange how he had to forcibly distract himself from them by filling his senses with Patroclus.

Yes. Later, he would deal with that later.

Pat had likely been sitting propped up against the wall of the pool before, enjoying the peace of the steaming water as it surrounded him. He was slouching now, at a bit of an angle, though he looked perfectly at ease regardless. Achilles could relate, for it had been ages since he too had seen any body of water look nearly so inviting; but he also couldn’t help wondering when Pat had begun to doze, and if he was dreaming of Achilles. It wasn’t that important of a question, for he would soon join his beloved and then such dreams would be saved for other times, when he was not there. Still, he had watched them play behind Pat’s eyelids before, and he had always wished he could see them, if only to know what Patroclus truly saw him as.

_What does he imagine when he dreams of me? Is it anything like what I imagine of him…?_

Pat’s head fell back and he snorted again, pulling Achilles from his thoughts. Best not to speculate, for it would do him no good to brood over the unknown. He rose up from his crouch, moving with light steps over to the opposite pool, where Patroclus was still blissfully asleep. A few handfuls of herbs sat unused on the tile beside him, and Achilles wondered if Pat had been about to scrub the blackened soot of the kitchen from his body before he fell asleep. That still hadn’t happened yet, and he chuckled to himself as he thought of how quickly Pat must have passed out for this to be the case.

The muscles of his beloved’s face had gone lax, smoothing the tiniest, almost nonexistent lines of age away and making Pat look young all over again as a result. He looked much as he did before they went to war, and the sight tugged tenderly at Achilles. “ _Philtatos_ …” he whispered, unable to restrain the emotion in his voice as he carefully reached out a hand. An embrace was what he truly desired, a kiss, maybe more. But in that moment his fingers settled for gently moving a few stray strands of dark hair out of Pat’s eyes. He tucked them softly behind his ear, and was about to move away when he felt Pat burrow his cheek into his touch. It was akin to all those countless times where they had been pressed so close together, and yet he still wished to be even closer. His heart trilled like a songbird, lifting him to heights that made him dizzy with love, and lust, and longing, and when he did eventually pull his hand away it almost physically hurt to do so.

_Gods, he has such a hold on me…_

Pat’s chest rose and fell without meaning to, mimicking the action of gentle breathing while he slept. So familiar, so heartrendingly simple… and yet it was something that he had always taken for granted. Simply watching his beloved take a breath and release it was magical. This was a thing he had never thought to see again, but here it was. Proof that they had lived once, that such an inherent reminder of what once was could continue to endure even when death made it obscure, redundant.

Then Achilles realized that he hadn’t seen Pat sleep so contentedly since they had been reunited. In fact, he hadn’t seen him sleep at all, and because of that he hadn’t known that their ghostly bodies would still do such a thing as breathe. Ah, he had missed out on so much.

But his Patroclus was as beautiful as always, whether he was breathing or scolding him. Even if he snored, it still looked elegant on him, somehow.

As quietly as he could, Achilles stripped himself bare so that he could dip his feet into the water. He was unable to hold himself back from the sight before him any longer, and he shivered as he slipped the rest of his legs in, savoring the tingle that spread throughout his body as he slowly submerged himself. The bath wasn’t cold, merely a moderate temperature that even shades could manage to feel and enjoy, but it was the sensation of it that had made him somewhat suspenseful. Bathing in the Underworld was not such a pleasant experience when you considered the water that was available for use. His was a knee-jerk reaction to watching Zagreus stumble out of the pool of Styx, coated in crimson liquid that didn’t seem to want to ever come off despite the strength of the towel; but their pool was different, thankfully. It felt much more satisfying and far more comfortable than Achilles could have expected, although he couldn’t discount the fact that he also felt delighted specifically because Patroclus was dozing off naked in there with him.

The tension gradually seeped out of Achilles as he sat, and he couldn’t quite find it in himself to stifle the happy sigh that left his lips. What could he say, he had missed the feeling of water lapping against his skin, and he had equally missed the feeling of sharing a bath with his beloved. Such joy was not easily restrained, and his entry into the pool, though smoother than most, had managed to cause the slightest of ripples. He watched as they gradually licked against Patroclus’ chest, sloshing in a rhythm that eventually spurred him to stir. Opening his eyes a crack, he glanced over at Achilles, and then promptly closed them again with a smile.

“You’re back.”

“I am.”

He came over to where Pat was sitting and settled down beside him, observing the drowsiness of his features with a small grin. “I didn’t mean to wake you, but this pool looked too tempting to ignore.”

“Mm.” Pat reached a hand over under the water and placed it on Achilles’ arm, feeling him as if he were not sure he was there. “Was I…?”

“Asleep? You were, yes.” Achilles considered mentioning the snoring as a form of payback for all of Pat’s commentaries on his haphazard sleeping rituals, but he was too contented to actively ruin the moment. Instead, he placed a kiss to his beloved’s temple. “Though I had hardly thought it possible for us, until now.”

“Huh. Funny, I had assumed the same thing, right until you woke me up,” he mumbled, his voice sounding a bit rough from all the snoring. Achilles smiled at Pat, observing idly as his hand wandered upwards in a slow arc, caressing every bend of his arm, every curve of the muscle as it went. Those deft fingers of his trailed droplets of water along Achilles’ bicep and his neck as they finally reached for his cheek. “Or… am I still…?”

So there _had_ been dreams of him, after all. Achilles could feel his heart swell within him as he laughed. “No, beloved, you are awake. I am here with you.”

Reassured at last, Patroclus let out a decidedly cheerful hum. “Good, that is good,” he mumbled, gradually forcing his eyes open again as he smiled at Achilles. “How was everything at the House?”

Gods, have mercy. That smile was about to undo him in all the best ways. “Oh, it was more of the usual,” he said, hoping it sounded casual as he slid even further into Pat’s space. “A lot of standing around, guarding the hall.”

“Ah…!” Their hips had bumped together, making Pat’s answer tremble just enough to be able to catch in his lungs. The shaky sound of it made Achilles’ own smile deepen. “Exciting work for the greatest of the Greeks, is it not?”

“The most tiring bit is having to bear the stares of all the shades that recognize me,” he answered, letting out a weary sigh. Patroclus was the only one allowed to see or hear of such moods, but luckily they were not a frequent occurrence. Achilles preferred not to waste their precious time together over pointless complaints, if he could help it. “Every single one of those souls knows of me, or has heard of me from someone else, which is not surprising. But it _is_ exhausting, dealing with their eyes on me at all moments.”

“I can only imagine.” Pat chuckled then, his easy laughter warming Achilles more than the bath waters ever could. “But at least you begin to comprehend how I feel when I must deal with anyone aside from you. Shades wish to talk to me all the time, and yet there is nothing for me to say to people like that. I hold no interests of theirs, and the conversations are tediously one sided. So I’m not entirely shocked that I tolerate the stranger whenever he comes by. At least he has things to speak of other than how many enemies he’s slain in his life.”

 _You only tolerate him? Oh Pat, what a jest._ Achilles smirked, keeping the thought to himself, and shook his head. “Don’t think you can hide your partiality from me,” he said coolly, and watched with dancing eyes as Patroclus sputtered indignantly at him. “Those stares you give to the lad go far beyond the simple act of toleration. Trust me, I know what disinterest looks like on you, Pat, and what you wear around Zagreus is nothing less than genuine affection. Were we not sworn to each other, I might be jealous to see it.”

His words might have flustered Pat, but he was soon to see that they had not dimmed his wits. “You are a fool if you think that the care I show to him is the same as the care I show to you,” he muttered, making Achilles go perfectly still. “He is our son, both yours and mine. Of him I am incredibly, and oddly, fond. But… you are mine alone, and I will not share you.”

The decisiveness of his words bored deep into Achilles, and he could feel his throat swallow around the sentiment, gulping it down with an eagerness that matched his tone. “Yes, I know.”

Patroclus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and smiled at what he saw. Which was everything, because Achilles had gone too weak to cover any of his feelings up. Not that he could ever withhold anything from Pat anyway, nor did he want to. “Is that all you have to say?” he heard him ask, his eyebrow precariously poised. Pat was toying with him, now; he had heard more emotion in those three words than an entire speech could encompass, but he wanted there to be more. So greedy.

Achilles smirked, his voice turning low and hot when he spoke. “What I have to say doesn’t require words… although it does still require my mouth.”

Hearing that made Pat flush, and his laugh became a deep rumble in his chest. “You think such crude seduction will win me over?”

“No.”

“You are right. It will take more than that, I’m afraid.”

Achilles tilted his head, gazed down into eyes that reflected his image like a mirror. Then his hand lifted, and he molded it to his beloved’s cheek as if he were made for no other purpose than to caress him. “You mistake me, Pat,” he said with a simmering grin. “I’ve already won you over. Now, I merely wait for you to come to me.”

The blush that splayed across Patroclus’ cheeks was gratifying, as were the short bursts of breath that gusted out of him, but he was not willing to give in. Not just yet.

“That confidence of yours is compelling,” he admitted, lifting his gaze high as he licked at his lips, “yet I don’t recall ever making the first move during these moments of passion. Not once.”

“I thought you might like to have the honor.”

Achilles beamed at him. He could feel his chest swimming with love and a million other heady sensations as his thumb stroked tenderly at the corner of a mouth that had parted slightly. Just for him. “Was I wrong to assume this?” he continued gently. “Perhaps you would prefer it if I grabbed you, instead? If I dragged you to me, with all my strength? Is that what you’re waiting on, Pa-tro-clus?”

His eyes slid heavily shut at the enunciation of his name, and Achilles felt the delicious tremble that followed the line of Pat’s spine as he arched against him, hands gripping firmly at his sides. Achilles let out a short breath of admiration. Useless, but expressive. He was not going to share, either. This sight was for him, and no one else. Patroclus would only ever become unraveled in his arms, and that was a certainty.

“You… do not play fair,” he grumbled at last, though it sounded more like a desperate gasp for air to Achilles.

“Tell me, am I to be blamed for my eagerness to be with you after so long apart?”

His fingertips ran up the feverish skin of his back, and Pat shivered under them. “You saw me not that long ago, Achilles.”

“Then why does it feel as if I’ve gone without you for a lifetime?” His gaze softened, and he leaned forward to press their lips together. Sweet, chaste, even in the heat of the moment. “I want every inch of you burned into my mind so that when I return to my post, I can see you whenever I close my eyes. That is the only way I can survive my time at the House. Surely you must know this.”

Achilles watched how his eyelids fluttered, saw the overwhelming amount of adoration pouring from his every look, his every breath, and he kissed Pat again, simply so he could drown in the taste of it. “Of course I do,” he heard him exclaim, sounding nearly offended, as soon as his voice had regained some of its steadiness. “By the gods, you are so much more foolish than I originally thought. Did you not think that I would do the same with you, after all the times we were parted? I know your body better than you do! I hear you coming before I see you! I can tell from a look, from a simple _touch_ how you’re feeling, and for you to presume - ”

There was no more to be said after that, because Achilles did not allow him to say anything other than, “Foolish, stupid Achilles,” in between their ardent kisses.

* * *

“Did Lord Hades call attention to your robes?” Patroclus asked after a companionable silence. He was sitting facing away from Achilles as he scrubbed at his arms, but every so often he would hum as those strong hands ran over the expanse of his back, putting the herbs to good use. “Mine were damaged worse than yours, but surely he would have noticed the large chunk missing.”

Achilles paused in his rubbing and thought back on it before resuming with a bemused shake of the head. “No one takes notice of me that often, Pat - least of all Lord Hades. He gave me the briefest stare, then told me that it was a requirement to look presentable when next I returned from my break. He did nothing more than that.”

Though he had started off dedicated to getting himself clean after the amount of filth that had spilled from the kitchen explosion (and their brief moment of passion), it did not take long for Patroclus to become distracted by Achilles’ hands on him. After a while he gave up on washing his arms altogether, dropping a hand down so that his fingertips could trace idle images along the top of Achilles’ thigh, both of which were wrapped leisurely around his waist.

“Mm.” He practically melted under the touch, bringing his head down to rest against the fluff of Pat’s newly washed hair as he continued to scrub. “It’s actually a bit of a relief, whenever I manage to escape the notice of Lord Hades. He can be very hard to communicate with if his mood sours - and that is more of a common occurrence these days. I prefer to stay out from underfoot, if I can.”

Pat’s fingers stilled on his thigh as he considered this. “So, he is like that with everyone. Such a sad state of affairs for the stranger, to be born to such an inattentive father,” he mused, and Achilles noticed the slight shift in his tone, the shadow of memories that would not die lurking behind his words.

“It is rather unfortunate. We have no control over where we are born and to whom, but who’s to say that family is decided by blood alone?” He nuzzled deeper into Pat’s hair, and smiled. “The lad has us, after all. He also has many others in his life who care deeply for him, such as his adoptive mother Nyx. Megaera and Thanatos also look out for him, in their own ways. Zagreus may have a terrible father, but he is not absent the love he deserves.”

Patroclus grew silent, deep in thought for a moment as he took in Achilles’ words; but after a while, he returned to his impulsive desire to draw, except this time on a more receptive section of Achilles’ thigh. His light touch tickled as he wrote a series of tiny hearts into the soft flesh, and it was impossible not to twitch when his beloved’s fingers were so casually teasing along the border of his most sensitive areas. Achilles let himself hum with pleasure as Pat continued his gentle ministrations.

“... It would seem that he and I share a similar situation, then.”

Achilles smiled, making sure to press firmly as he dragged his hands down Pat’s back once more. He was no longer simply cleaning as he smoothed over a few tight knots in the muscles. “So you do,” he agreed. A brief moan hung in the air after each stroke of his hands, and Achilles strained to hear it, eager to fill his ears with the sounds that proved his work was well appreciated.

“How are you so good at this?” Pat asked him on a sigh, and he bit down another groan as Achilles pressed into one particularly hard knot that seemed to instantly disappear as if it had never been. “I feel as if I’m clay to be sculpted by you…”

The praise made Achilles glow with satisfaction. “I wouldn’t say that I’m good at massages. What I am good at,” he muttered, with a quick nip to Pat’s earlobe, “is touching you.”

“That does not surprise me.” The sarcasm sounded soft, almost tender underneath its obvious wry humor. “You would not be my Achilles if you held your passions back, or tucked them away around others. You have always done what’s felt right to you, no matter if people disagreed or refused to allow it. That is but one of the many reasons why I fell in love with you. I admired your courage back then, and I admire it still. It is because of you that I learned to develop some of the same in myself, you know.”

His words made Achilles swallow, and he utterly failed to sound unaffected by them. “Well… that is…” he stammered, glancing away with a frown. He opened his mouth, shut it again. “I… had no idea,” he finished, weakly.

Patroclus laughed, patting the thigh he had been tracing with a shake of his head. The skin there tingled, and Achilles pressed his face further into Pat’s hair to smother the gasp he wanted to let out. “Yes, I know,” he said, amused. Then he turned around to smile at Achilles, his eyes gleaming with far too much knowledge for his own good. “However, this is what genuinely confuses me. You are the most courageous man I know, you taught me the definition of the word many times over; and yet, you are hiding these feelings for the stranger away, as I would have.”

That was true. He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with his feelings, but then he had never been sure if the sentiment was one that Zagreus had wanted to hear. Now that their last encounter had proved to him that the lad was doing everything that he could for them precisely because of the fact that he saw them as… ah…

_I can’t even think of that word without burning up…_

Achilles sighed, trying to smile when he noticed that Pat’s attentive eyes were still watching him. He was not good with explaining his feelings, not when it came to this, at least. Never had he expected to become a father, certainly not a true father who had played a role in raising his child. His attentiveness towards the Underworld prince’s wellbeing had started off as an assigned task from Lord Hades after all, one that could not be renounced. He had initially considered it as just one more addition to his job description, another responsibility to maintain if he wished for Pat to continue to dwell safely in Elysium; yet, not long after Achilles had taken the lad to the courtyard for their first training session, he had grinned and gave profuse thanks for having shown him a pointer that had knocked him flat in an instant. “I never saw it coming,” Zagreus had said, in awe, and then he literally beamed up at Achilles with what he could only describe as the giddiness of a young child. “Actually, I never saw _you_ coming. You’re incredibly fast, Achilles, sir! Might you teach me more some other time?”

He was not bitter, or frustrated that he had lost. He wasn’t even angry. The prince was grateful, and overflowing with kindness and praise… for the likes of him.

It melted Achilles’ heart, loathe as he was to allow himself to feel anything for the gods. They were notorious for being unkind, often investing themselves in humanity strictly for what they could gain from such alliances. But Zagreus was not like them, and kept proving him wrong with every smile, every laugh. He would see Achilles and wave at him from across the room. “Hi, Achilles!” he would call, flailing his arms with childlike abandon until Hades took notice and shushed his son for disrupting the court. The lad was never one to stand for mistreatment, and would stick his tongue out at him behind his back as he ran over to Achilles with an excited grin. “What are you going to show me today? Or night? I can never tell.”

Achilles began to look forward to seeing the lad more and more, smiling back at him whenever he smiled, laughing quietly to himself as the prince mimicked his father in secret, mocking him right down to his last gesture. The time whirled by in a blur, until there finally came a day where he could not think of anything more to teach. Zagreus, now tall and filling out with the muscle of a young man, had approached him to ask for another lesson, and Achilles had merely stared. What was he to say? What was he to do? There was no longer a reason for them to train, and if that was the case, then…

When had their bouts become more than a job? More than simple training? When had this boy with flaming feet grown into a capable adult? And the question that had assaulted Achilles the most…

When had he developed such affection for the son of Hades? Would he ever be able to admit that he viewed the lad as more than a prince, more than a friend? Could he ever find it in himself to call Zagreus _his_ son…?

 _Would he want me to?_ Achilles had wondered, with a stray glance towards Lord Hades. He was the lad’s true father, but he was also the one who had inspired so much of his hatred and agonized ranting. There was a possibility that Zagreus would not want another father, after seeing what his own could be like. The entire concept of fatherhood might have been tainted for him, as it had been for Patroclus.

 _Alas, it would hurt to be denied this,_ he realized, brokenly. _It would hurt so much, and I don’t think I could withstand the potential rejection from him, as well._

The emotions had swarmed in his heart, near to overwhelming in their intensity as Zagreus stared at him in confusion. _No,_ he thought at last. _It would be best to put this aside. I would not want to see his expression contort with disgust towards me._

_I don’t want to lose him. Not someone else I…_

The lump in his throat had choked him then, and Achilles had said no more on the subject. But now… now that he so badly wanted to say that word, he couldn’t. He had waited too long, and now he simply could not do it.

 _I’m not hiding it because I want to,_ he sulked inwardly. _Not anymore._

“Achilles?” Pat’s smile had grown quite a bit gentler while he was ruminating over the past. “You’re starting to get that look on your face.”

“Hm? What look?”

“The one you have when your thoughts are thoroughly preoccupied with our son.”

“Ah.” He had almost nodded, but then he realized what had been said. Both eyes flew wide open, and he blinked in shock at the smug humor on his beloved’s face. “Ah!? Wh - ”

Pat snorted at the startled sound that had come from him, draping his face over Achilles’ shoulder in an attempt to compose himself. It didn’t seem to help, other than to make him snicker harder as he shook with mirth.

Achilles frowned in earnest, hoping that he didn’t come off as embarrassed as he felt. “This is exactly the kind of childish behavior you scolded me for the other day, is it not?”

“Similar, yet different.” He felt Pat grin against him. “You are so easy to tease. A better target does not exist, except at the House of Hades - and he is not here as often as you. At least allow me my scant moments of amusement, Achilles.”

“Next time, I will drag the lad with me through the portal so he can be at the mercy of your jests.”

There was another snort, and then he felt Pat muffle the rest of them in the hollow of his throat. Soft lips caressed his skin as they formed another smile, but Achilles did his best to stay annoyed. “I do not have a look, either,” he added with a scoff. “You think you are funny, but you truly aren't.”

Patroclus heaved a sigh after his laughter died down, and he pulled away from Achilles to stare through him. “Oh, but I’m being serious. I’ve seen it on many an occasion.”

 _What? On many an occasion? When have I ever…?_ Achilles raised his eyebrows, attempting to recall how often he had done such a thing, but Pat looked so terribly amused with him that he eventually decided it didn’t matter. He wasn’t wrong this time, anyway.

“Oh? And what do these expressions tell you, to make you smile at me like that?”

“They tell me more than you would think, although it’s usually nothing I don’t already know,” he replied. “Your eyes say that you are proud of him. Your smile says that you think yourself lucky to have met him, and that a father could not have been blessed with a finer son.”

Again, he was not wrong.

“The crease between your eyes, right here, says that you are conflicted about something you have said to him, or would like to say.” Pat placed a small, conciliatory peck in that spot, and he felt the lines of stress go smooth under the mild insistence of his lips. “Shall I continue? There is more to comment on.”

“No, I…” Achilles brought a hand to his face, half obscuring it as he sighed. “I had not thought myself to be so open, but I must be if you can cut down to the heart of the problem with a single glance.”

Patroclus loved to tease him over these kinds of things, but there was also a time and a place for it. He must have known that the time had passed because he did nothing except hug Achilles, bringing them chest to chest. “I know what to look for, that’s all. When others see a smile, I see what lies underneath. It comes from spending a lifetime with you,” he said, his voice soft. Achilles could feel warmth seeping into his skin from the closeness, the scent of fragrant herbs wafting all around him, and that combined with the heat of the pool made his eyelids droop.

_If I sleep… will I pretend to breathe, as well…?_

“Though, you aren’t normally the type to conceal yourself around the people you care about,” Pat continued after a while. “He is not nearly as skilled at reading you as I am. So, why then do you not simply tell the stranger how he makes you feel? It wouldn’t hurt him, or you, to say what you both think is already known.”

Just like that, sleeping had become the furthest thing from Achilles’ thoughts.

It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to say anything. Achilles wanted to acknowledge the lad somehow, of course he did. Pat’s words had clung to him since he first said them. _He has no one to tell him such things, so I do._ And if that was what Zagreus truly needed from them, then who was he to keep holding back on such sentiments? Hades was a god who held no sympathy for anyone, he was certain never to say the words that his son wanted to hear. So, then… why could Achilles not say them in his place? Why could he not offer more, as well? He would gladly give anything of himself, as long as it showed how deeply he cared for the lad. As long as it explained his heart where his words ran short.

Which was actually the main motivator behind him wanting to give Zagreus a gift of the material kind. He had to offer thanks, in some form or another, for everything the lad had done. It felt wrong to keep accepting so much without giving anything other than gratitude in return. Words were important, of course, but at the same time they didn’t feel as adequate as they used to. He thought about the various other family figures involved in the prince’s life, those who had already given so much of themselves to him, beyond even what Achilles could think to share, and it reminded him that there were no more words he could possibly say that might stand alone from what Zagreus received from everyone else in his life. The support, the kindness and care behind their actions… it was almost identical to his. Achilles understood that what he said could only carry so far, and at the same time he knew that he had come to a barrier that was near impassable. His words were going to fail him, so he had to provide more than that. He wanted this gift to be something that would show plainly that which he could not properly say out loud. He wanted it to send a message, so that every time Zagreus looked upon it he would know, without a doubt, just how fond he was of him.

Achilles wanted what he gave to be special. Unique. An unmistakable declaration of the love of a father for his son.

_Because how could I ever get those words out of my mouth otherwise?_

Out of nowhere, there came the soft clearing of a throat, and Achilles startled slightly. Pat had been reading him like a scroll the entire time, hadn’t he? Yes, unfortunately he had pulled back after the significant silence to observe Achilles again, and he gave a quiet chuckle when he finally noticed him. The twinkle to his eye, the tilt of his smile, it was not mocking. But it was uncanny how Pat seemed to know of his inner workings. He knew them before Achilles could even comprehend them himself, sometimes.

Those eyes were still regarding him carefully, and Achilles pouted to see it, not caring how immature he might look. “Must you always examine me like this?” he sighed, rubbing a hand along one blushing cheek.

“If I don’t, then I might not be able to help. The answers to many of your questions often lie dormant within you, so I make it a habit to decipher each look as it comes.” Then Pat’s wolfish grin returned in full force. “Also, I enjoy examining every aspect of you. How could I not?”

Gods. Achilles gave him a smirk as he crossed his arms. “Honestly, Pat.”

“It isn’t my fault, it’s yours,” he said, poking a finger somewhat accusingly into his chest. “There is nothing I can do about how gorgeous you are. And please, if you’re going to play innocent, then choose a different scenario. I know that you have done the same to me. I’ve caught you in the act, so you hardly have any right to feign neutrality there.”

A larger smile took over as he brought his arms around Patroclus’ neck, drawing him languidly towards his mouth. “I would never do that,” Achilles mumbled into the first lazy kiss, before falling into another. “Not to you, _philtatos_.”

He watched as Pat took a moment to bask in the deeper meaning of the word, to enjoy the feel of Achilles on his mouth, the trailing of fingertips along the hot skin of his back. “Good,” he said, nodding to himself. He had offered a mixture of compliments and truth, in the hope that Patroclus might not push him away to resume his berating; which made it all the more baffling when instead he tugged at Achilles’ hair, pulling him carefully away from his mouth despite how clearly he was loving the attention. The displeased moan that tore from Achilles’ throat had sounded almost comical, but Pat merely shook his head at him.

“Are you going to tell me what is eating at you,” he asked, his eyebrow raised, “or shall I send you back to the House with no kisses to tide you over?”

Achilles stopped to gape incredulously at him. “You wouldn’t do that,” he said, aghast. But whenever he attempted to lean in, Pat would tug lightly on his hair again, effectively stopping him.

The eyebrow lifted even higher. “I would so. You have used this tactic before to avoid the troubles that plague you, and I will not allow that this time.” True to his word, Pat paused only to glance once at Achilles’ lips as they curved into a seductive smile. “No matter how wonderful it would be if I let you carry on.”

When Patroclus made up his mind on something, he could not be swayed to change it. Achilles knew this because Pat had come to find him so many times over the course of their life, alone, without permission and without a single glance behind. His love was a testament to his strength of will, and he was perhaps even stronger than Achilles in that respect. There would be no getting out of this, not when those eyes were staring defiantly down into his.

Even so, he was glad that he had Pat to remind him of what was right, rather than going ahead and believing in what he thought to be right. He had always been the voice of reason, the words of wisdom in Achilles’ ear. The better man was Patroclus, it was no contest.

_He and Zagreus are both far better than I was. Than I am._

_And I love them dearly for it._

Gradually his grin dropped, and he sighed in defeat. “Alright, fine. I give,” he sighed, relaxing into the tender kneading of Pat’s fingers. The tugs to his hair hadn’t hurt, he knew that Pat would never purposely hurt him; but the treatment afterwards felt nice, all the same.

“How wise of you.”

Achilles frowned, searched his gaze for a moment, and then he closed his eyes. “Do you… have any ideas for what I can give to Zagreus? As a gift?”

His face burned as he said it, for it didn’t sound like much of an issue when he put it that way. But Pat seemed to take his inquiry seriously regardless of his reaction. “Is this gift being given because of an inability to say the one word you so desperately want to say?”

Ah. So he already knew of the emotional turmoil Achilles was experiencing over this, then. He felt his expression turn sheepish. “Yes, partly.”

”I thought as much.” Pat let out a fond sigh, and his touch was reassuring as he threaded his fingers through a few strands of loosely knotted hair, untangling them with ease. ”Let’s see, then… What can you afford?”

“Nothing fancy.”

“The stranger has enough fanciness lining his walls, I’m sure. If you were to get him anything, Achilles, I would suggest something less… regal. It would mean more to him that way, and I can tell that is what you are aiming for with this.”

He blushed even worse, but kept his eyes closed. “As usual, your advice - and your appraisal of me - is golden,” he said, letting out a short sigh. “The lad commissions whatever he likes, however, so my options are still sparse. I want to choose something that he does not yet have! You know the struggle as well as I!”

Pat’s fingers slowed, then began to comb absently through his hair. “What can you give to a prince who has everything?” he mused.

“Exactly.”

“Hm. That is a problem.”

“It truly is.”

For a few blissful moments there were no words, just the comforting feel of Patroclus in his lap. Only his warmth, and his love. Achilles could feel himself slipping off into sleep with each pass those fingers made through his hair, his worries drifting away as Pat’s hands touched him…

Then he stopped. Achilles groggily opened his eyes and yawned, despite himself. “Did you think of something?”

Pat had a hand on his chin, and he looked over at Achilles with a thoughtful pursing of the lips. “Perhaps. I was talking with the stranger when last he was here, and he said…”

Deciding that it was better to whisper it, just in case Zagreus happened to barge in on them unannounced (which was sort of the prince’s way, especially around them), Pat brought his mouth to Achilles’ ear; and when he had finished explaining his idea, Achilles could feel his own expression brighten. “That, I can do,” he said, and grinned, tilting his beloved’s chin up to bring their lips together, gentle and sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys think up any cool things that Zag could get the Contractor to whip up for these two, then by all means lemme hear 'em! Eventually I might run out of ideas, so I welcome all suggestions in the comments!
> 
> Come and say hi on Tumblr!
> 
> You can find me at my main blog [@refraingirl](https://refraingirl.tumblr.com/) or at my writing blog [@refraingirl-the-writer](https://refraingirl-the-writer.tumblr.com/)!


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